Riddle
by shannonaon
Summary: What if nothing you knew was correct and Dumbledores storey was at last torn apart?
1. Abused, Abandoned and Avoided

**Obviously Harry Potter belongs to JK, and therefore a plain Muggle, as I could not own such a novel. **

**Warning, this Fan fiction contains abuse, foul language and is not accurate to the cannon in some chapters. The chapters will be split into three or more parts to describe the lives of the three main characters until the characters lives submerge. **

**Chapter One: Three Fallen Angels.**

The frail figure of a young girl clung to a scrap of fabric that was once a quilt. Her body was twisted in a deformed manner as she sat motionlessly in a damp crate at the bottom of the basement. The morning air seeped through the floorboards and her skin pricked at the cold. She inhaled a breath through her dehydrated mouth; she felt her pale lips crack under the pressure of breathing. Her hair fell over her face, wiry and dirty. Cautious not to make a sound, she scraped the dry blood that had matted onto her face, accidently as she tucked a strand behind her ear.  
Finally she heard footsteps above her then near her as her father crossed the basement, his feet tapped through the water that sat stagnant on the hard ground. The fumbling of chains echoed through the silence and then the scratching of metal key to metal lock as he opened the crate. He stood above her. His intimidating stance looming, as though he was a giant. He had blue eyes that boar down against her gaze that was timid and desperate. His hair was combed and red, his robe was neat and traditional black, his face was stern and reminded her of iron.  
He dragged her out by her shoulder, his nails pressing into her skin; she bit her tongue to hold in a gasp of pain. He dropped her on the slate steps and hissed into her ear. "Girl, you better behave today otherwise you're to be left down here for a month." He threatened, honestly. He had done it before. The girl gave a weak nod, not meeting his face, as she agreed.  
"Listen to your mother, and brothers and sister. Do your chores and I will consider letting you eat tonight. You owe me every inch of your existence." The girl sat there her gaze fed to the ground. She couldn't look at him. He left as the bruise began to form on her shoulder. She had been in the basement for two days, being let out once to eat and to use the bathroom. Unwillingly her body trembled as she slipped up the large stone steps.  
The hall waited at the top of the stairs, she waited until her eyes had adapted to the light. Then limped to the kitchen, her feeble bones aching. She groaned at the pain, her rags stuck to her skin. She bit back a cry as she opened the door to the familiar sight.  
A polished wooden table lined with ten chairs sat in the middle of the room. The counter on the far wall was piled with dishes that seemed to be washing themselves, in warm soapy water. The girl went over to the sink and dipped her hands, cut and bruised, into the bubbles, a stinging pain let through her palms, but she managed to scrap the dirt from them. As she relaxed a creak sounded behind her. She turned but it was only that cat, sitting on an armchair on the opposite wall. The clock next to the fireplace that was reduced to an ember had ten hands made from old spoons and no numbers at all. Written around the edge were things like at school, at work, and lost. Books were stacked three deep on the mantelpiece, books with titles like Charm Your Own Cheese, Enchantment in Baking, and Cauldron Stews. The old radio on the shelf to the left of the young girl had just magical turned on and was playing the channel, Prophet daily, a version of the daily prophet that played music.  
As the girl dried her hands she jumped at the back door as it creaked open. Two identical boys entered, smiling grimly. The young girl bowed her head lowly, "Young masters are already awake, I am sorry, I have not yet started breakfast." The boys shook their heads, dark red hair tumbling over their faces.  
The young girl had the same dark red hair, but shoulder length and wavy. Her eyes were a shade of cold blue, hanging with longing. Her name was Grace Weasley. But for a long time she thought her name was girl, as that was what Mr. and Mrs. Weasley called her.  
"We heard father let you out-" Started the slightly taller of the two.  
"-And we came to see you." The other boy finished with a grin growing across his face. Both boys had freckles evenly placed over their skin, and each had a mischievous glow in their blue eyes. The boys were her older brothers Fred and George Weasley.  
"What would the young masters like?" Grace asked her brother in a quite voice. Fred gave her a wide smile, "Its okay we can wait, take your time."  
"We can start buttering the bread if you want?" Grace pleadingly shook her head. "If fathers finds out then-" But Fred set his finger to his lip s in a quiet order for Grace to be silent. She obeyed. "We can help, ever since Dumbledore told father that we shared a magical core he has treated us-."  
"Differently than-"  
"Ron Ron and Gin Gin-" Fred finished mockingly. Grace felt a natural anger burn beneath her skin. The elderly man was the honorary grandfather of the other Weasley children and their close family friends. He was also Headmaster of Graces future school; unfortunately.  
Grace nodded, she remembered Dumbledore saying that, last month, when she scrubbing the porch. Apparently Fred and George shared a magical core and therefore were not fit to attend Hogwarts in later years or be placed into a pureblooded betrothal. He said they were a waste of pureblood blood.  
From what Grace understood, sharing a magical core was an old pureblood concept, that dated back to the first Wizgmont or the order of Camolot, apparently Deveiners or Core sharers naturally lost there magic if the other twin died. Meaning they became a squib and unacceptable for a magical contract.  
"Let us help." George said as Grace nodded and began to cook a saucepan of porridge; she stirred it with a wooden spoon and added a spoonful of brown sugar. Then she put a dozen sausages into a pan with olive oil, after that she cracked half a dozen eggs a fried them in a separate pan. Before turning back to stir the porridge. Meanwhile Fred and George were laying the table, slicing bread and buttering the pieces heavily. Grace placed a dozen slices of bacon into a dish and put breakfast into the oven, along with mushrooms, onions, and hash browns.  
The smell had lured the other members of the Weasley family from their beds. Bill came first, he had learnt, long ago, to ignore Grace. Bill sat down and helped himself to a piece of bread that he spread a strawberry jam over, thickly. His light ginger hair tumbled over his forehead. Bill was the oldest at age sixteen and was the spitting image of Mr. Weasley as a boy. "Fred sit the fuck down and eat you prat. You to George." Bill yelled at his younger brothers as he tried to trip Fred up. Fred dodged his foot that had appeared from under the table as Charlie, the second oldest boy, laughed at the scene from the staircase.  
When Charlie sat down Fred and George took seats beside him and began to eat as Grace served them a plate each. Fred and George thanked their younger sibling but Charlie only smiled, Bill said nothing.  
Suddenly Mrs. Weasley marched in, her gaze a shooting straight towards the Grace. "Girl where is my breakfast?" She spat as she through a stinging hex a Grace's heals. Grace slid out the way of the curse and hurriedly placed a full plate in front of her mother.  
Mrs. Weasley was a plump woman, who wore patterned outfits; each one seemed to add a bit more weight to her pear shaped figure. She had squinty eyes and a large nose that made her face seem very wide. Her hair was well-groomed and light ginger. She was a very roughly spoken lady and behind her back none of the pureblood women in their group of friends liked her.  
It was Dumbledore that had managed to connect the Weasley family back into a pureblood society. He, as head of the Wizgmont, managed to give Mr. Weasley back his title of Lord and his seat in the Wizgmont; although many disagreed. It was Lucius Malfoy who disagreed the most according to the countless arguments between Mr. Weasley and his son Percy Weasley who believed Lucius was a strong member of the wizarding society. Apparently, the Weasley's were first entitled blood traitors by Lord Lucifer Malfoy when his younger sister was rapped and murdered as she slept by the hands of Gilbert Weasley in the early 1746.  
Ginny came down stairs next. She was a slightly podgy girl, with greasy red hair, that hung above her shoulders. Ginny was the baby of the family, so all the parents doted on her. Yet because of all the attention Ginny got, she was a very spoilt brat. She was extremely girly, and giggled a lot which annoyed most the boys in the house. Grace used to share a room with Ginny, but a year ago Ginny had complained that Grace hurt her with accidental magic and now Grace slept under the twins' bed, when she wasn't locked in the shed or basement. She didn't mind, the space was very comfortable because the floor was a mattress, covered in blankets and pillows. Fred and George called it Graces private tent.  
Ginny sat down in a chair at the end covered in pillows, so she could see over the tabletop. A few minutes later Mr. Weasley arrived. Mr. Weasley sat with a newspaper at the end of the long table. He stared at his Grace with disgust. "Where is my plate?" he asked as he took a quick swig of his coffee. He placed the daily prophet on the table, and Percy, who had followed him down, quickly snatched it. Grace placed a plate of hot food in front of her father, who grunted then began to eat.  
"Dad, what type of dragon do you thinks lives at Gringotts?" asked Charlie, as he pretended his boiled egg was a dragon egg. Charlie was the one brother who ignored the stupid rule about not talking to Grace, in secret. He had even snuck her food a few times. He was the outdoors type and at age fourteen new everything about Dragons. Charlie spent the first eleven years of his life in the garden flying his commit 20, pretending the chicken eggs were dragon eggs and looking after stray animals. He currently owned a bat named Horntail, which uncle Fabian and Gideon bought him. Mr. Weasley shrugged, and shoved another spoonful of beans into his mouth. Charlie turned to Bill hopefully.  
"Well, the dragon will be big to scare people, but not that dangerous because the goblins have obviously tamed it. Plus it will have to have an extremely long life span. Ring any bells in your obsessed mind?" Charlie suddenly shouted, "A Ukrainian Ironbelly. Thanks Bill," Grace watched her older brother race upstairs, there was a loud screech seconds later followed by Charlie saying, "Sorry Podge."  
The boys laughed and even Grace smiled shyly. After a few more minutes of talking, Mr. Weasley stood and kissed Mrs. Weasley goodbye. "Have a nice day at the office, dear," She mumbled into his shoulder. The family clock switched to Mr. Weasley at worked, Grace new he had apperated away. Ron, the youngest Weasley Boy, took the opportunity to annoy Percy now that his father had gone. Grace and Ron practically never got along. Ron was manipulative; he constantly reminded all adults how he was never good at anything compared to his brothers. This is how he got extra presents at Christmas and a joint birthday party with his best friend every year.  
"Get off Ron," said Percy gruffly as his little brother tugged on his sleeve. Percy swung his arm away from Ron, but accidentally hit his jaw. Ron burst into tears. "Mummy Percy hit me, he doesn't like me because I'm not old enough to play his grown up games."  
Mrs. Weasley spun and hissed at Percy, "To your bedroom now Percy, and don't let me hear about this sort of thing again." Percy who was smart enough not to argue dragged himself upstairs. When Mrs. Weasley turned around again Bill snuck upstairs as well, probably to cheer up Percy. Ron and Ginny leapt into the living room soon after to play with the mini Quiditch set Ron had got for an early birthday gift. The set was a life like Quiditch stadium, with fourteen players, which included Ron's favorite team the Chudley canons and Ginny's favorite team the Windborne Wasps.  
Fred and George, who had gone to change, came back into the room in jeans and knitted jumpers each with an orange W. Mrs. Weasley them pulled closer to her, and shook them. "How dare you take so long, bastards, the both of you." she whispered viciously, her cold glare scarring them.  
"Your brother's party is tonight and you will not mess it up." She hissed at them. Grace and Ron turned five tomorrow and Ron had asked for an all-night party so they could cheer for him a midnight.  
"You can do your usual chores but after five I want you in and dressed ready for the party, if you're not seen people will ask questions. If you dare speak about what happens in this house you're be in the shed for a week." Mrs. Weasley promised as she turned towards Grace.  
"You girl, will do your regular chores and Percy's. Before going back into your room all night, I refuse to let you ruin Ronnie's party with your jealous ways." Grace nodded and then waited for her to dismiss them. George looked shell shocked, "Why does she have to do Percy's as well?" He asked cautiously.  
"Because Fred-" Grace rolled her eyes at the mistake. "George," the twins corrected effortlessly.  
"George, your sister and brother are too young to help." Fred looked up, "but Grace is the same age as Ron and she's been doing her jobs for two years almost," protested Fred. Mrs. Weasley glared at Grace. "Don't argue, the girl must earn her keep, she's an ungrateful, beast with no manors, I wish she was never born. The little squib." Mrs. Weasley growled, Grace burned with pain. _Why didn't they love her?_ "Yes mum." replied the twins, hurt expressions on their faces.  
"Good boys, now go. I want everything done before I come back," Ron heard that.  
"Where are you going mummy?" he asked sweetly. As he walked over, a struggling member of the Chudley canon team in his chubby fist.  
"We're going to see Neville at his house, does that sound fun?" Mrs. Weasley said, as she picked Ron up. Suddenly Ginny started to sniffle, "I want to see Holly and Nelly too!" she cried. Grace grunted Holly was Neville Longbottoms younger sister. She was like Ron and she and Grace had never liked each other.

_The first day they met had been one of Graces bad days. She had only just been let out the basement after three days. The girl age three, came up behind her as she was finishing the last of the dishes. Her plain blond hair covered in mud, where she and Ginny had been playing outside. A bucket of dirt was in her palm. Grace didn't see her until the bucket had already been tipped over the plates. "Why did you do that?" Grace asked coldly, before spinning round and facing the girl. Holly shrugged, "You're going to get in trouble now," She laughed. Her high pitched squeals rang in Graces ears. The little girl was thrown out of the kitchen by Graces accidental magic._

"Of course you can come Ginny, you two run upstairs and get your coats." When Mrs. Weasley followed the two children upstairs, Grace and the twins ran for the door. Once outside the winters cold bite them. Their feet hit the frosty ground with a crunch. Grace headed straight for the chicken hut. Grace hated chickens, they were loud, stupid and Mr. Roster, Ron's first pet, woke everyone up fair to early. But she feed them anyway, and stole their eggs whilst they were pecking at the corn now scattered over the grass. Grace could see Fred and George debate about who was going to distract the family's pig, when the other twin filled up his water trough. Finally Fred gave up and threw himself into the pigpen. Grace watched with a smile. After a few hours all the jobs had been done. Fred, George and Grace fell into the house dragging their feet behind them. They looked at the old workbench covered in family photos but of course none included them. A small note laid there, Mrs. Weasley's handwriting read:

_Do not steal any food. The pantry is locked, boys get ready. Girl, stay out of the way._

The three worn out children went upstairs to the twins' bedroom. The twins and Grace had the smallest bedroom that they only used for show. The room had a small circular window that overlooked the river. The walls were sky blue with enchanted clouds gliding from one wall to the other. The twin's favorite colour was blue, and nothing any of the adults said would ever change that. A child's favorite colour in wizarding Britain was usually matched to their future house at Hogwarts. A small desk sat in one corner of the room, on it laid four old books: A prankers guide to trouble, Magical jokes and pranks, 100 ways to be a joker, the guide to riddles and mischief. Graces room used to be the same but of course the entire room was for show, the child rarely slept there. It was all an image.  
The boys collapsed on the bed and grabbed a towel each from the cupboard flinching at the small dark space that was too similar to the basement. Then they left Grace in the room to think. She heard the tap burst on moments later. Grace looked at the painted cloud floating across the sky. She thought about the things she had always thought about, how long would she live? Did they love her? Did she deserve it? These thoughts weren't meant to cross the five year olds mind. But they did, it was the harsh reality of her childhood. She had first realized she was meant to be ignored when, on her third birthday, her father locked her in the basement because she was taking the attention away from Ron. Mr. Weasley left her in there for two days until she finally came out starving. The first of many betrayals, she thought bitterly.  
The twins came back looking healthy; they were made to take potions. They were already dressed in red robes with a gold F on the back of Fred's and a gold G on the back of Georges, but of course they had swapped outfits for a prank. When Mrs. Weasley came back she dragged the boys away.  
Grace stayed hidden reading a book of common charms she had found in Bills room. She had been reading since she was three but she had never gone to school, she had spied on Mrs. Weasley when she taught her brother Ron at home. Grace was extremely intelligent, she could calculate problems in Muggle math, read books among books of spells, cast most of the spells wandlessly, and controlling her accidental magic. So when she was called a squib, it hurt her.  
Grace sat quietly when the friends of the family started to arrive. She heard the high pitch hellos as people fled into the living room. Grace new the list of people that were invited having written the invitations herself.  
The Potters. James a famous Aura, his jade chestnut hair and brown eyes rimmed with black glasses. His hair was always ruffled and his mind fixed on Quiditch. He wasn't the tallest man invited but he wasn't the shortest either. Lily Potter was draped over him, the small Muggle born with a degree in magical medicine; witch helped seeing as her oldest son was a Quiditch fan. Christopher Potter, the boy who lived, although nothing was ever proven. He had apparently defeated the Dark Lord as a child, the Proof? The Dark Lord was gone and he had a lighting scar on his forehead. Pathetic. Grace heard Lily apologize with sadness in her eye that their youngest son couldn't be there, having being kidnapped in a death eater raid when he was a year old. Harry Potter, was said to have had stunning green eyes and raven dark hair, Grace had only seen a photo, once.  
The Longbottoms. Frank was a lesser Aura. His flat hair was dark grey making his jaw stick out. He looked like a tough nut, but one word from his mother and he would sink. Augustus Longbottom a strict lady, who wore a green robe with a dead rabbit handbag. She was vile and everyone knew it. Her daughter in law Alice was the only lady who could make the old hag pleased. Alice Longbottom was a chubby woman who had begun Aura training only to back out when her son was born. Neville Longbottom a crybaby, fourth best mate of Christopher Potter. He was unfit, because he hated flying, the reason why he wasn't a best friend with Chris. Suddenly a loud yell sounded from downstairs and Grace sighed, Holly had arrived.  
The Lupin's arrived next. Remus Lupin was a kind but sickly man. He had lost his wife May, before Christopher had defeated the Dark Lord. She had been very beautiful. Her large golden eyes had been passed on to their son, Tyler. He was Christopher Potter's second best mate. He was shy and a bookworm, but had a striking sense of humor.  
The Prewett's were second to last to arrive. Uncle Gideon and Fabian, identical twins. They had dark red hair but not as dark as Fred, George and Graces, and pale grey eyes. Fabian had two baby boys, born this year, called Gale and Flynn. Lily Potter who was best friends with their mum, Amanda, adored them.  
Along with the Prewett's arrived their cousin Adrian. Adrian Crouch was the adopted heir of Bartimus Crouch. He had sour green eyes and limp black hair; there was something off about him. And all the children ignored him.  
Last to arrive was the teachers of Hogwarts, Dumbledore, headmaster, McGonagall, head of Gryffindor, and Madam Pomfrey, the nurse. Madam Pomfrey had a girl a year older than Bill called Sandra who was invited and a son, Reuben, Bills best friend, who also turned up.  
Professor McGonagall was accompanied with her great nephew Joshua, a Ravenclaw in Charlie's year. Professor McGonagall was a strict woman with a bun in her hair and scarlet robes. She adored Gryffindor's, so basically all the people at the party McGonagall liked.  
Grace heard Ron and his friends run up stairs, "Let's play Chaser and bludger," yelled the voice of Chris Potter. Grace snorted, Chaser and bludger was a typical boys game were the one person tried to knock over the others until everyone was out.  
"Good idea," agreed Ron, Neville, the twins, Charlie, Joshua and Tyler. "Birthday boy is the first bludger," yelled Joshua before everyone ran to hide. Graces breathe halted, completely soundlessly, when the door creaked open in her room. Joshua had chosen the twins room to hide in, thinking it would be empty. He peered at the pale girl in front of him, stunned.  
"Who are you?" He asked quietly, so Ron didn't hear him. He heard footsteps in the floor above. Grace starred at the boy, she had only seen once before.  
"Who are you?" He repeated as he crept over, making sure he didn't stand on any creaky floorboards. He sighed in relief when he didn't. Grace trembled, as he got closer, but knew she had to answer.  
"I'm Grace," she said in a barely audible whisper, Joshua lent closer to hear her.  
"Oh, your Ron's twin." He confirmed, Charlie had told him about his sick sister a few times. Apparently it was nothing contagious, but it made her very tired and if she tripped she got bruises easy. Joshua looked at her arms; she must be clumsy, he thought, because she had a lot of bruises.  
The girl bent her head and began to mumble, "I have an illness called Quassatum Puer, and you should go."  
But Joshua didn't move. Instead he stared at her, "Did you get many birthday presents?" he asked the young girl, before sitting on the bed besides her. She shook her head. And he gave her a sad smile.  
"Why don't you come down and grab some cake?" He said softly, try to encourage her. She again shook her head, knowing how much it would upset her father. Suddenly the door burst open and Christopher Potter raced in.  
"Found him," he yelled to the others, who all piled into the room as well. Ron sneered at Grace, "Come on Joshua, cake time." the boys all left with confused looks, and Grace wept into her pillow. Waiting for the upcoming punishment, she would get from upsetting Ron.

AAA

The weather on Brook Street was typically English. Rain cascaded against the grey figures of brick houses that sat on either side of the road. Cars sped past, and street lamps illuminated the pathways, as they hummed mechanically.  
A small park gleamed in the rain. Tap. Tap. Tap. A rusty swing set, a tin slide and a tunnel which was covered in rude graffiti sat behind a row of small trees. The trees were broken, the lower branches had been snapped by the local children and the trunks had been marked with hearts and names, which no one remembered.  
Behind the park stood a picket fence, the paint once white, was now grey and flaking away like dead skin. This fence was the only boundary around Wools orphanage. The orphanage was a cold neglected building. Millions of worn bricks towering up until hitting a dark slate roof. Arched windows hung in rotten frames, above the large front door. The other side of the orphanage only held one window, which over looked a busy main road.  
A man hurried down the street, wearing a black rain coat. He ran wildly and clasped an old folder to his chest; silver Mercedes passed him and splattered drain water over his barely visible cream khakis. The man stopped running and looked back at the car pathetically yelling as it drove away. As he turned he saw the figure of a boy stood behind the arched window on the old building opposite. He quickly looked away when the figures dark head faced his direction. He carried on running at the same pace but further from the road. The twitch of a rare smile was caught on the edges of Draven's mouth as he witnessed the small accident from his window. The foolishness of some adults was something he found rather amusing.  
Draven was five. Although he didn't act five; Draven never acted like a child at all. Draven had been reading for two years. His head was always stuck in a book; he mostly enjoyed history books about classical Greek and Roman Gods; which he borrowed from the library. Draven could remember everything he read it was one of his many gifts that made him special. When he read Draven would be drawn to the knowledge, only pausing to remove the lose strands of his untamable black hair from in front of his eyes.  
Draven's eyes were unnaturally intense emerald orbs, swimming with curiosity. They were the only feature of Draven's that showed emotion. Over the years Draven had perfected his mask; it made the other children in the orphanage frightened. They all thought Draven was horrible, the pale freak that didn't talk. The one that was always watching. The boy that made bad things happen when he was angry.  
Of course the local adults and sisters who worked at the orphanage thought Draven was a gem. Beautiful green eyes and lovely dark hair. Very polite and always studying. Never received a grade below excellence in his life. The list went on and on; but remarkably nobody ever wanted to adopt Draven.  
Many couples had come to see Draven, and all these couples were nice friendly people who, from a first look over Draven's papers, agreed he was the perfect child. Yet after talking to him alone every one of them changed their minds. It would have affected other children, seeing twelve couples walk out on you, but Draven simply shrugged his shoulders and said, "Someone out there understands my gifts."  
Draven walked away from the window and sat on his bed. His room was plain and empty; a small wardrobe sat in the left corner, it was square and made from thin wood. The bedside table was piled with books most of them he had to return to the library, but one was Draven's. He picked up a little blue book, with thick pages and small printed righting. The tales of Beedle the Bard was the only object Draven had arrived at the orphanage with. The book was a children's fairy tale book not particularly interesting; except for the messy writing on the front page that Draven treasured:

_To Draven, I'm so sorry I love you, and will come get you, uncle Sev._

Draven could read the sentence for hours on end, it was his hope. His way of believing someone loved him.  
As Draven went through the book, turning the old pages he found his second favorite part. It was a photograph, stuck in the creases of the last page.  
In the photograph, was a big black dog asleep on the couch? A little boy with ravens black hair and emerald eyes snoring as he lent on the dog.  
It was a normal picture, although the photograph was not. The picture moved. When Draven first saw the picture he had loved it, although as he got older he understood his picture was unique. Normal photographs don't move. He told himself, before smiling, _but when had I ever been normal_ he thought.  
On the back of the photograph, was another note. This note had neater handwriting and read:

_'My little boy, I love you with all my heart, lily.'_

It would have been the perfect note; however the name lily had been scratched over and replaced with Bella. Bella, the name somehow rings a bell in Draven's mind.  
Beth Locks ran upstairs and opened the small oak door and gazed upon the familiar sight. Draven, reading the front page of his little blue book. Draven although he knew she was there didn't move, he knew she had only appeared to collect him for breakfast.  
"Draven, breakfast is ready. Are you going to try and eat something?" She asked.  
"Of course Beth, I wouldn't miss your cooking." Draven said, a fake smile appeared on his face. Beth looked convinced and ran out the door her curly brown hair bouncing on her shoulders. Beth was one of the oldest children at the orphanage. She always looked out for the younger orphans. She was the only person in the orphanage who didn't suspect Draven, or think he was a freak.

Once she had left Draven put his book under his worn blankets, and grabbed an itchy jumper that he slung over his head. He ran a hand through his hair then walked into the hallway.  
A few smaller children slid up and down the polished wooden floor in old socks laughing gleefully. A group of older boys started whispering as Draven walked past. Draven knew the oldest was William Derek; he was a first class bully. Fat body and small facial features, greasy blond hair that stuck to his head. If you asked him a question about school he would grunt stupidly, but if you asked him a question about him he would grin and tell you all about his rich family who were coming to get him some day. He was a liar and Draven hated him. He had started the rumors about Draven, and although Draven enjoyed the respect he got from the others orphans because of the rumors, he hated not having friends his own age.  
Although he would die before admitting it, Draven would love a best friend, not loads of little buddies, but a true friend. A friend with the same interests and gifts as Draven but not someone who didn't share their own view. Draven imagined a friend who would be like a brother, annoying at times but someone no matter how hard he tried, Draven couldn't lose.  
As Draven walked down the stairs he was knocked into. He grabbed the railing to stop himself from falling down completely, as he heard Williams's piggish voice. "Did you see the freaks face, what's the matter kid too weak to hold yourself up?" William yelled, before the snickering of his friends started.  
Draven ignored them, hopping he could retreat to the dinner hall without making a scene. That wasn't going to happen.  
William rushed down the stairs and blocked the doorway his arms almost touching each side of the frame.  
"Well, freak what you going to do now?" Charlie Benstood, a tall lanky boy that loved to hang around William, asked. Draven stood still; hoping his gift wouldn't start, not today he didn't want the attention. But once again Draven didn't get what he wanted.  
It happened very quickly, like a video being fast forwarded. William got bored of waiting for Draven to answer so he lunged at Draven, his big hands out in front of him and his face pinched and red. Charlie caught Draven's arms and held him still. Draven who couldn't move waited for the blow, he waited for the pain, and he waited for the burning in his throat to start as he screamed. But it never came. Very slowly Draven opened his eyes and was shocked to find himself at the top of the stairs looking down at William and Charlie.  
It seemed when Draven had vanished, William had pounded into Charlie who had falling on to his back, stuck like a turtle. William was blindly throwing punches as a crowd of children circled the two boys. It was very amusing to watch, and soon the crowd began chanting, "Fight, fight, fight." It was this racket that had drawn Sister Megan, from her porridge. When Draven watched her enter the hall pushing through the children, her face swelled into a rather disgusting shade of plum. Draven stiffened a laugh. In one movement Sister Megan had both boys by the collars. She pulled them up and Charlie gasped for air. A few children departed as the smells of bacon called them to breakfast; but many, including Draven, stayed to watch the outburst.  
"What were you both thinking, how dare you! I will be discussing your long punishment with Sister Claire. Never in my life have I witnessed such foolishness." She screamed, glaring at the both.  
William began to panic, "but Sister Draven started it he punched me in the head then ripped out some of my hair then..." William looked around for Draven who was still stood at the top of the stairs. Sister Megan followed his gaze, and scowled.  
"I do not remember Draven's arms having the ability to reach from the top of the stairs too where you and young Charlie were rolling on the floor, you horrible little boy." She yelled before pinching Williams's ear, with her sharp fingernails.  
"How dare you lie, Draven hasn't committed a sin in his life, have you dear?" Sister said, her voice softened as she addressed him. Draven smiled innocently, but inside he was roaring with laughter.  
"Well I always try my best, Sister," he said sweetly. Charlie and William gaped at the him, before giving a look of disgust.  
"Sister, honestly he was beating Will when suddenly he just vanished and then appeared at the top of the stairs." Charlie said, William just nodded in agreement.  
"How in the world did I vanish and reappear up here?" Draven said before walking down the staircase. The remanding children watched intently as he stopped in front of William.  
"I mean, that's impossible unless you're saying I'm like some sort of demon with magic."  
William glared at Draven, "you're a freak. You don't belong here like the rest of us." He howled. Sister Megan had had enough, "I refuse to listen to your lies both of you, Draven hasn't done anything to you, if I have it my way you're be cleaning the dinner hall for a week."  
William and Charlie began to complain but sister carried on, "with your toothbrushes." She finished before dragging the boys away.  
Draven controlled his fit of laughter as he entered the wide dinner hall, the smell of orange juice trickled up his noise. A grand table stacked with dishes of creamy porridge and plates of French toast was covered by greedy hands. Orphans shouted across the room, their mouths stuffed with chunks of food.  
An apple core rolled past Draven, and he skipped over the crusts of toast scattered on the floor. He moved silently towards the kitchen were Beth and Issy her sister were eating pancakes drenched in syrup at a small table.  
"Draven we saved you some," Beth said proudly, it was hard saving the pancakes; they always disappeared first, into the mouths of greedy toddlers.

"Thank you, they smell brilliant." Draven said honestly, before collecting a knife and fork from the draw.  
"Draven why do you insist on eating with those, it's much more fun to pick it up with your fingers." Issy said before breaking of a bit of her pancake and stuffing it in to her mouth. It was yuck to watch, and Draven was reminded why he didn't like Issy.  
"Because, Issy, I don't believe acting like a pig is needed at the table." Draven replied sharply, there was silence for a while, as Issy and Beth sat shocked.  
Then Beth coughed, "are you going to the Library today?" She asked Draven, as he slowly ate his food. Draven shock his head, "no, I went yesterday. So there's no point going today." Draven replied his tone now bored. Then Issy spoke again.  
"Why do you go to the library so much? I mean you're only five." She said, as she began to lick sugar from her fingers. Draven's insides curdled, the girl was an animal.  
"I go to the library, because I like learning, unlike some people." Draven smirked. "Plus Will never goes there, so it's a place to get away from the idiot."  
Beth giggled, but Issy scowled at him.  
"He doesn't do anything wrong, you wind him up, so it's your fault," he glared at the girl.  
"He's vile and cruel and you're just pathetic." He snarled, his face no longer belonging to a five year olds.  
"At least I'm not a freaky disappearing act!" Issy screamed. Beth just sat there glaring at both of them.  
Draven stood up, his hair falling over his face. He didn't even bother replying. He just left the silent room.  
Draven stood under the door and peered up at the sky. It was still raining but it wasn't as heavy and the clouded seemed to be drifting apart. Draven sat down on the cold stone floor thinking about his mother and father, he must of had parents, he read about how children were born in a book from the library, although only briefly. He thought about who he probably looked like most. In his dreams he remembered three adults; the first was a man with dark brown hair, and an emotionless face, and complexes blue eyes. The second was a woman with beautiful black hair that fell over her face; she smiled softly in his dream and whispered his name. The last was another man, his face looked proud and his green eyes stern but comforting and mad black hair like Draven's. This in Draven's head was his first and only family.

AAA

Three men sat in a dimly lit office. The elder of the three was intently pondering over a pile of parchment, tattered and worn, like his eyes. "That is not good enough. Olliphus must be lying-" He said sternly to the other two men. The tone of his voice was sharp with underlying desperation. He rubbed his hand across his dry blonde hair and itched his ear in frustration. The two other men sighed at their fathers antics. Their empty blue eyes meet one another's as the elder of the two twins pushed his long hair over his shoulders. "This is ridiculous. I honestly believe Olliphus is chanting riddles to a sphinx. Lil, do you agree?" The older twin stated. Lilius ignored him for a while, and instead focused on the flickering light of the fire.  
When he replied it was in a cold tone. "I agree that the half-blood is lying, Lucius. However, as we are yet to decipher what he is specifically lying about his broom still has a tail-"  
A loud snort came from the father of the two, "Yes, but his broom is not one I shall chase. Let us remain level headed son, the children will be foun-" Lucius stood up in rage, he was uncharacteristic these days. He circled the room with heavy footsteps and then summoned his glass of whiskey. He drained the glass, he felt the alcohol slither down his front, and he felt his eyes begin to wither from the compressed agony he felt. He turned to face his father and brother.  
Lilius Malfoy was sat on the emerald couch his face framed with light brown hair and brilliant blue eyes that years before could stun any witch. They now lay gaunt and emotionless on his face. Abraxas Malfoy, his father, had the same emotionless glare lingering in his eyes. Abraxas was the third wealthiest man in wizarding Britain, his decorated fingers holding the head of House and the recognition of a Wizgmont Seat rings gleamed proudly underneath his robe sleeve that was embodied with diamonds. Even in the unimpressive company of his two sons Abraxas was a flaunter of gold.  
A quite tap at the door made all three of the men quickly glance at the large mantel clock. The time was exactly ten minutes to eight at night, Lebenth and Draconian where extremely talented at arriving precisely at the correct times. Lucius and Lilius called enter and with a small brush of his wand the large oak doors separating the hall from the office opened wide.  
Two young boys stood in the gloomy doorway. The taller of the two, Lebenth Malfoy, was wearing a perfectly fitted pair of night robes decorated with silver and black stripes. Lebenth stood with profound pride and a lasting innocence held with in his muscled figure. At age seven Lebenth was the only son and heir of Lilius and Rilndą Malfoy: hair of soft blond, eyes of frosted steel, pale skin, intimidating stance and lonely childhood.  
The previous description was also present in Draconian Malfoy who was believed to be the identical frame of his older cousin. Due to their fathers impeccably timed and demanding routine the cousins only contact with their fathers appeared late in the evening before they went to sleep. The family tradition of sharing meals together had slowly disintegrated as the search for Lebenth's missing cousins begin to control their fathers' lives.  
As the innocent Draconian ran across the room to wish his father goodnight he tripped over the night gown he was wearing and fell onto his father's legs. Draconian, however, ignored the fall and grinned up at his father in a guiltless manner. Lucius frowned with frustration as the heir to the house of Malfoy collapsed into his legs. He hoisted the young boy onto his feet with his right hand and scolded him with his left.  
"Draconian. Please do not run if you are incapable of steadily remaining on your feet." Lucius told the five-year-old child. The grin fading from his pale face as he nodded. Lucius took notice of the boy for a simple second: His posture was unkempt, his hair was a ridiculous length, his way of presentation was foolish and his eyes were- "Are you crying?" Lucius spat harshly as his embarrassment began to reflect in his voice. His son was not meant to cry it was just not done.  
Abraxas ignored the parenting tactics of his son towards his grandson and concentrated on praising Lebenth who had recently challenged himself to begging his Potions training on his own. Being a skilled Potions Master himself Abraxas agreed that his oldest grandson was quite remarkable at gathering the concepts of the art. Although he needed practice.  
In the eyes of Abraxas Malfoy, Lebenth Malfoy needed all the encouragement he could receive as the young Malfoy was a mute. His voice was broken and unfixable by magical acts. They had tried. The rushed birth as his mother died from a curse in a raid caused the mutation of the young innocent boy. Although he was intelligent beyond measure and had made up for the lack of his voice with the power of his mind, Lebenth Malfoy could enter the mind of most individuals and talk to them through thoughts.  
"Do not become a failure. I will not accept an unintelligent boy in this family." Abraxas remarked as he patted his grandson on the head. Lebenth forced away his smile, "Of course grandfather, I would not dare disappoint my father, uncle Lucius or you by neglecting my studies." Lebenth thought. His grandfather laughed fondly.  
"I know, I know. My boy you will be great, just like your father and Uncle."  
A sudden yell came from Lucius, as the hair of his son became a violent red. "What has happened? Draconian stop this foolishness at once-"  
Draconian remained puzzled as his one blond hair became red. He smiled, "I can do magic! Daddy!" The little boy squealed as Abraxas and Lilius turned to look at him. Abraxas frowned. "That's the Black blood from his mothers' side showing in him." Abraxas and Lucius shared a look of displeasure.  
Malfoy heirs where meant to show the dominant traits of a Malfoy, not Blacks, Crabbs, Greengrasses, and especially blood traitor qualities where meant to be presented in the heir of the family.  
Draconian smiled softly at his grandfather. "Mummy can do this?" He questioned as he innocently pointed to his hair.  
Abraxas scowled again, "No, but her blood traitor sister can and so can her blood traitor cousin. You best hope you do not follow in their example." Draconian once again felt the smile weaken on his lips. His grandfather stood, looming over him like a spear before patting his shoulder and stalking past him down the hall.  
Lucius watched his father leave and then turned back to his son. "Draconian, you must keep your hair a normal colour. Do you understand?" Draconian paused before nodding solemnly. "Yes, Dad- Father." Draconian said before he and Lebenth retraced Abraxas shadow down the hall.  
Draconian felt a tear drift down his cheek as his cousin slid an arm around his shoulder. "I am sure grandfather didn't mean what he said, Drake." Lebenth thought with an encouraging smile. Draconian whimpered, "I bet he did." Lebenth watched as his cousin wiped his face dry with his sleeve.  
"I bet your wrong, I bet Uncle Luke and grandfather are jealous and that-" But Draconian could tell that his cousin was lying through the stuttering sounds of his voice in his own head.  
"Thanks for the support, Leb. But I'm just not growing up according to their plan. I can't even get daddy- I mean father, to look at me with a smile anymore." There was an agonizing loneliness present in the boys' words as he spoke. Lebenth smiled sadly, "There notice you one day Drake. When you do something great. Then there have to notice you." He thought as the house elves came to send them to bed.


	2. Beaten, Befriended and Books

**Hey this is the second chapter, hopefully the first one was well understood.**

**Chapter two: Remember, Reveal and Regret**

The frost had hit, an icy coat covering everything, devouring life. A cold plague. It was a week until Walpurgisnacht day, the famous European holiday on the first of May when witches and wizards celebrated the first of spring. More and more young wizards had begun to tease muggles with exploding parcels, biting letter boxes, and boiling rain. Not to mention the Indian port key that lead across roads and in front of Muggle vehicles so they disappeared.  
All in all Mr. Weasley had come home furious every day, but today he had been invited to a small work party, then he came home. Drunk. Grace, Fred and George never saw the clock change Mr. Weasley's spoon to home, nor did they hear the back door slowly creak open as they washed, rinsed and dried the dishes. What they did hear was the slow whisper as Arthur spoke, "Upstairs to bed boys, the bitch will finish." Mr. Weasley said heatedly, Fred shock his head. "We can help-" He didn't finish, Mr. Weasley rose a drunken hand and began slapping George across the face. A tear shed down his face as he whimpered in pain. A large red handprint slowly turning to bluish-purple on his cheek.  
Mr. Weasley saw Grace walk towards the door and he locked it with a quick charm to stop her escaping. Then he cast a silencing spell, he knew Molly wouldn't come down stairs she was too obedient, but he was worried about the boys, Charlie especially. That childish idiot would surely tell if he were to see. Grace crawled under the table hiding from her father.  
This always happened at to her. For a long time Grace thought she was just having nightmares about her father. It wasn't until Christmas Eve the previous year that Grace saw her father, wand out, in front of her whispering oblivate. She remembered though, his cold eyes bearing down. She never knew why the memory charm didn't work on her.  
George was yelling for help, squealing like an animal, as Mr. Weasley struck him again with his belt. George tried to shield the unconscious and bleeding body of his twin as the belt smacked his thigh. The buckle leaving red imprints on his skin. Fred whimpered in curdled pain on the floor. His head was heavily bleeding from a cut above his left eye that he must have got when his head hit the stone kitchen floor. Grace watched the scene as behind her the tap that was still turned on, began to overflow.  
The hot murky water washed over the side of the sink and began to flood the floor. As Grace watched from under the table she felt the sudden pickle of hot water wash against her leg. She yelped and looked behind her. The water was pouring across the floor. The stone floor gleamed as the plates in the sink began to rise from the flow of water. A crash suddenly sounded as a plate fell over the sink and onto the floor. Grace, ignoring the yells of her brother, ran across the room. The hot water splashed and hit her skin; she began to wince as the water ran down her leg. Her skin raw from constant beatings. Suddenly a sharp scream exploded from Fred. The flow of water had hit his bleeding figure. The scream made Grace turn violently in shock. She slipped on the floor. With a sharp intake of air she fell into the water. She screamed burning water hit her pale skin and she screamed in unbecoming anger. But with forced frustration Grace grabbed the edge of the counter. Hot water poured over her skin but she managed to pull herself up. Leaning over the counter Grace finally turned off the tap and drained the sink, plunging her hands into the water for a final time. The magic in the kitchen managed to suck all of the leaked water down the drain as well. Leaving Fred, Grace and the floor completely dry. Except for a red stain of blood that was now resting on Fred's shoulder. "Daddy, please. Dad it hurts." Yelled George as Mr. Weasley bent Georges arm back and around his back. CRACK. George screamed in an uncontrollable beat as his arm was snapped in half. The bone connection his elbow to his wrist was poking against his pale skin in an attempt to break through and tear his muscle. Mr. Weasley began to panic. Finally he had gone too far. "Fred?" Grace said softly as she walked up behind Mr. Weasley and tugged on his jumper. Mr. Weasley was panicky. He lunged at the children with his wand and with a harsh blow of his wand sent them all into a rush of darkness. _Shit_, he thought as he levitated them into the basement and slammed the heavy door. Locking it on his way to his room. With a final glance at the roof as he lead in his bed, he thought, _I'm going to be rich again when the Girls Gringotts vault has passed to Dumbledore. He said he would give us half of the contents of the vault and their must be thousands of Gallons in it. It was her father's fault we weren't given the gold in the first place. When she's dead and gone, and the boys are finally and permanently oblivated; then I will have power enough to murder those that tormented me in school because of my family name. I will murder all those pureblood bastards starting with the last of Potters stupid little group._

AAA

It was the 23rd of April. The April showers were beating the floor. Draven couldn't remember how long he had been sat on the step, outside the kitchen door. But he knew that no one would destroy his thoughts here, because a thick wall of black berry bushes covered it. Which Sister Megan planted years ago to stop the children from sneaking into the kitchen and tearing apart the cupboards filled with treats.  
Draven could hear the children running around indoors, causing havoc and laughing as they played games like hide and seek. He could see the cars through the bushes and an old man cycling past. He was completely relaxed, which is why the sudden scream shocked him. He stood up, and looked around expecting to see a little child, but there was no one. Draven inhaled the misty air. Someone had defiantly screamed.

"-_Stupid hatchling cannot see my pain_.-" said a hushed voice, which startled Draven. He looked around, a small branch in the bush twitched. Draven took a closer peek and saw an icy blue snake caught in the thorns of the branch. Draven extended his hand, towards the bleeding creature.  
"-_I shall bite you! Hatchling_,-" snarled the snake, causing Draven to jump back. He could hear the snake, the words, and the language. Draven wondered if the snake could understand him, back.  
"- _Do you need help?_-" asked Draven politely, manors always won friends.  
The snake turned gleefully, "-_oh, a speaker! I am sorry young master_,-" The snake hissed excitedly, his scales glistened like snow on his back. His black eyes fixed on Draven, as Draven carefully knelt beside the bush. "-_I will free you, ice scales, from this painful cage_.-"  
Draven didn't wait for a replied; he just carefully released the snake, who hissed deeply in relief.  
"- _I am forever grateful, master of speakers_-" he said. Draven shifted uncomfortably, since when was he a master.  
"-_Please, I am no master, I am just an orphan_.-" hissed Draven truthfully, as the snake slithered in front of him.  
"-_Draven is my name, what is yours little snake_-"  
"-_My names, humble orphan Draven_-" The snake said, "-_you are wishing to know my names?_-"  
"-_Yes, if that's okay,_-" said Draven suddenly wondering if he had offended the little creature.  
The snakes head tilted down and his body coiled, he looked like he was thinking.  
"-_My names Draven is unknown to me_,-" replied the snake sadly, Draven stood still, a feeling of guilt washed over him. He was now cold from the small shower of rain that had now started, he was also hungry he had lost track of time. The smells of ham drifted through the doorway that was slightly open.  
Draven inhaled, and his stomach growled. The snakes' tiny forked tongue twitched and his eyes narrowed.  
"-_ham, eat it. Eat it, hungry_-" the snake breathed before slithering under Draven towards the kitchen door.  
"-_Wait ice scale'_s!-" Draven begged, he didn't want the beautiful reptile to get caught in the kitchen. Beth and Issy would scream and Sister Megan would run in with her broom. Draven new this because of last year when a stray dog had wondered in at dinner; utter chaos had erupted.  
"-_orphan Draven is there danger. The humans do they hurt?_-" whispered the snake, cautiously. Draven thought of William and Charlie.  
"-_Yes they hurt, evil children_.-" growled Draven, a venomous spit curled in his mind. Sometimes he couldn't control his anger towards people and he did things. It was part of his gift. He could make things move without touching them; Annabelle's snow globe didn't fall off her shelf on its own, the day after she broke Draven's trainers. He could make things appear in front of him; James twenty pounds he got for Christmas hadn't flown from his pocket into Draven's hand, by its self, the following day James had pushed Draven down the stairs. Draven could also get into people's heads. Draven couldn't control the other gifts; they only happened when he was scared or angry, but Draven could get into any bodies mind at any time.  
It was this particular gift that Draven scared the adults with, the ones that came to adopt him. He could always hear them: "I thought he would be bigger, he looks smart, what a stupid name, I wonder if he plays football, beautiful eyes, cute little kid, I wonder if he likes dogs, will he get along with Danny... All of them the same. Judging him, testing him, almost like buying clothes in a shop looking to see if he fit. So he answered them. Yes he knew it was cruel, but one day when someone accepted what he could do, Draven would leave the orphanage far behind.  
Draven picked up the little snake. Its small body was smooth, Draven stroked the snake gently. A soft hiss told Draven the snake didn't mind, "- _wrap yourself around my wrist, under my sleeves_-"Draven whispered.  
The snake obeyed as Draven walked silently through the door.  
Beth and Katy, a younger blond girl, were making piles of sandwiches for lunch. The smell of ham, salad and fresh bread infused the kitchen, Draven inhaled. Draven could see their hands, scraping butter into the bread, and cutting up tomatoes, lettuce and ham. Ham. A huge leg of ham hung from the pantry ceiling, swinging gently.  
Draven's face became still, as did his body. Stone still. His breathing stopped. Then he imagined the ham from the insides of the sandwiches falling into his pockets. The slight movement and new weight confirmed he had done it. The snake hissed softly as the smell hit him, '- _your magic is gold, young master you are powerful_-'  
Magic, the sudden explanation hit Draven so hard he nearly fell back. Magic is what he could do. It was such a simple answer, and slightly farfetched, but it was right. What other children could do what he could do, none that he had met.  
Gold magic was that a type of magic? Draven would have to ask the snake once they were in Draven's room, safe from little children and annoying teenagers.  
As Draven crept through the kitchen, he past Beth who looked at him with a pathetic apologetic smile. "You okay, Draven?" She asked.  
Draven nodded, he could feel the snake curling tightly around his wrist. Beth smiled and pulled Draven into a hug, Draven stood emotionless, the hugs were a reassurance to the younger orphans, nothing more.  
When Beth pulled away she had a lot of annoyance over her face.  
"Draven, you're soaked to the bone! You haven't been outside in this have you?"  
Draven shifted uncomfortable, then nodded.  
"Draven, upstairs now, I'll send you up some dry clothes." Draven smiled at the easy escape. He ran out the kitchen nearly slipping on the polished floor. The children had all retreated into the bathrooms to wash before the lunch bell. Draven could heat the scampering of feet and small whines as water and soap attack the grimy hands of the other orphans. Draven passed the bathroom a trail of water behind him as it dropped from his damp clothes, then up the staircase and into his room. Although small the familiar sight was a huge comfort.  
Draven pushed his sleeve up and released the small blue snake. The snake slithered into the bed and pulled at the itchy covers, entwining the threads. "-_Don't do that-!_" Draven said he could almost feel himself hissing.  
It felt nice, slow and soft like something trickling off the top of his tongue.  
As soon as the snake stopped Draven began to smile, he was talking to a snake and the snake was talking back. Although it would be much better if he had a name that Draven could use. Draven thought he gazed upon the snake who hissed at the admiration. He had a silky long body and a pale blue glow, and in detail small black lines twisting around him, like thread.  
Draven beamed, "-_I have a name for you if you want it?-_" Draven questioned.  
The snake took a moment before looking up, "-_young master wants to gives me a name? Is it a good name_?-" the snake flicked out its forked tongue. He's probably thinking of the ham thought Draven.  
"Well, if you tell me what you think of the name you can have the ham." Draven said, the snake shifted uncomfortable glaring at Draven.  
"-_You was speaking in human tongue.-_"hissed the snake impatiently.  
"-_ I am sorry, I said if you tell me what you think of the names you may have some ham.-_" Hissed Draven slowly making sure he kept in his snake voice.  
The snake nodded his small head in reply; Draven shifted thinking if the snake would like the name. "-_Well, the name is Blackwater_,-" Draven whispered unsure of his choice. In his mind it suited the snake as his black markings looked like little black waves on a blue ocean.  
The snake nodded considerately, '-_my name is Blackwater,-_' he hissed softly.  
Draven remembering his promise took the ham from his pocket and started nibbling on an edge, tearing parts off for Blackwater.  
After they had eaten, Blackwater curled up in Draven's pillow case and fell asleep. Leaving Draven alone, to wonder about what Blackwater had said in the garden... Magic.  
Draven always knew he was different, but not just because of his gifts. Draven had dreams about very odd and particular things.  
In his dreams, Draven saw his family, two men and a beautiful woman; but there was another dream, a dream Draven never mentioned. He saw an old man with horrible twinkling blue eyes, along with a red headed woman with vibrant, green eyes. They looked down at him muttering and the old man made cold red lights sting Draven's body, this used to make Draven wake suddenly in the night screaming. But now it was the second part of the dream, the red headed woman was holding him and shaking him, "it's your fault, and we should have never taken you." Draven's dream ended when a blue light hit him. This is when he woke up screaming his whole body burning.  
He would tell himself it was only a dream, but it always seemed so real.  
Draven heard a small tap at the door, and Draven jumped from his thoughts.  
Draven shifted from his bed and opened the door to reveal Beth, who was holding some new clothes.  
"I got these from Gordon, they should fit you." She said smiling. She put the clothes on his bed then, turned to face him.  
"Draven don't go outside again, alright?" Draven began to smirk, "don't want me to get wet again?" He asked sarcastically.  
"You're not taking me seriously." She scowled.  
"It's just a bit of rain,"  
"No it's not the rain I'm talking about, Williams out looking for you." The fear in her eyes shone. And Draven new she had finally admitted it to herself, the fact that Draven was different.  
"Speak." Draven commanded the older girl, who sat there looking at him.  
"I should have realized it earlier; you're not like us. The things you can do, there not normal Draven." She said. Draven tensed.  
"Normal, define normal." Draven spat, as Beth slowly moved away.  
"Normal, is acting like a child not an adult, normal, is not knowing everything, normal, and is not disappearing like a..." She finally believed the others, "freak."  
Most children would have cried but Draven just winced slightly as the icy feeling travelled through him.  
"Get out." he ordered.  
"No Draven I'm sorry I didn't mean it." She cried, Draven didn't listened he wanted her to know what it felt like to be alone.  
So he looked into her eyes, and fell into her mind. He sieved through her thoughts.  
Her mind was like bubbles, memories all floating around, first day of school, riding a bike, meeting Draven, watching a movie with her friends, laughing with her friend's parents. All the happy memories were floating at the top of her mind.  
Draven spotted a dark cluster of bubbles at the bottom of her mind. He reached for them, getting left at the orphanage, being bullied at school, falling into the schools pond... That's right. Draven thought as he pulled the memory out of the bubble, so Beth remembered the day she nearly drowned.  
After Draven felt serge of panic, he dropped out of Beth's mind leaving her to remember the day at the pond.  
She yelled for a bit, thrashing her arms Draven found it very amusing. Then, once the memory faded she stared at Draven in horror, as he smirked.  
"Leave," he said, she didn't need telling again.

Draven thought he would feel guilt as she left but there was nothing, no emotion.  
Draven in anger glared at the pile of books in the room, until... Bang. The whole pile fell to the wooden floor. He stood up, glaring at them. Remembering the exact contents of each one, he knew it wasn't normal but it made him powerful; it have him an advantage over all the other children. Power was everything.  
Blackwater had said he was powerful. He said Draven had gold magic whatever that meant.  
Draven lade on his bed, in the warm, his clothes still damp. He taped Blackwater gently, and then watched as the beautiful snake wound around his hand.  
"- _Yes Draven_,-" Blackwater hissed, like the air going out of a tire.  
"-_Tell me about magic_-" said Draven softly as he stroked Blackwater's back.  
"-_You have powerful magic Draven, when you turn eleven years you will get a letter to Hogwarts, the magic school._-" began Blackwater.  
"-_Tell me more about Hogwarts_.-" said Draven, who was extremely interested.  
"-_All I know is that great master Slytherin serpent speaker came from there, he was a very powerful wizard the only wizard to have black magic, although Merlin had white_.-" Blackwater said.  
"-White magic?-" questioned Draven, his soft voice felt pure in his throat.  
"-_I can see a glow around you, gold magic. Those with no magic have a soft blue glow, squib have purples, and weak wizards have red or orange, good wizards have yellow, powerful wizards have gold and the most powerful have white or Black_.-" hissed Blackwater, Draven beamed at him.  
"-_Thank you, Blackwater_.-" Draven hissed before rolling around and covering himself with the thin blanket. Blackwater hissed a soft "-_sleep well_,-" before searching the room.  
Draven was Left to think about his parents, like every orphan does when their confused or sad. He was thought about his parents and what Blackwater had said; he had guessed that there was a sea of knowledge about wizards out there somewhere, one that he wanted to find. As he lay there thinking, he accidentally fell to sleep, dreaming silently.  
The next morning bought a frost. The whole street was covered in a beautiful soft gleam. Cars speed past showering the payments in a spray of water. Men in plain suits slid as they hurried into their cars. Waiting for their cars to heat up, as they scraped the ice from their windows with their sleeves.

AAA

Draconian Malfoy and his older cousin where sat at the dining room table at breakfast. It was exactly a week before the Malfoy Walpurgisnacht ball and so the adults where hectic as they slandered the house elves as the creatures contently worked to prepare the house.

Narcissa, Draconian's mother, had demanded that the boys where to retreat to the upper wing of the house that had already been cleaned. Narcissa was the younger of the black sisters by nine months, she was her father's little girl and because of that she had become devoted to her son like her father had to her.  
Draconian was the light in her life when five years ago she had seen nothing but an overpowering gloom. Now she saw her son: the Malfoy heir, a beacon of intellect and the proper pureblooded son to Lucius even though he failed to see it himself.  
Narcissa had left her son and nephew in the dining room eating a delicious breakfast of ham and cheese croissants that she had made that morning. Both boys where extremely polite when eating despite their age. In general, actually, both of them where as polite as an adult, Lebenth was perhaps older but her little dragon was two years younger, something his father and grandfather usually forgot.  
When Narcissa re-entered the dining room at quarter to eight to escort the boys to their lessons she saw them in a frustrating game of wizard's chess. Narcissa smiled softly as she watched Draconian take two of his older brothers pieces in a swift movement. Lebenth, now without a queen and bishop, had only two pawns and his king. She watched as Lebenth gave an impatient glare at the dimly lit bored.  
He was losing. He was about to lose a game of chess to a five year old that still had his queen, both rooks, both bishops and a pawn. He was fed up with this game but he hid his feelings and forced himself into his cousins mind, boastfully he thought, "I see check in three; and you, younger cousin?" Draconian smirked as he raised his hand and tapped his king on its crown.  
"I see checkmate in one depending on your move. Which will hopefully take place in a matter of seconds." Lebenth snarled. He roughly placed a hand on his king and began to move his piece to the left before spotting the position of Draconian's queen that was directly waiting for Lebenth to drop his piece. He tried to put it back but Draconian said, "Tut Tut cousin, please refrain from cheating." Lebenth began to become flustered but then saw the 'no' gesture his aunt was giving him from the doorway.  
With a heavy sigh, Lebenth placed his piece on the board as Draco called, "Queen to B4," Lebenth watched as his king sat stranded and was soon beheaded. Draconian laughed gleefully.  
"I beat yo- I mean, well played Leb." Draconian said with a small smile forming on his face. Lebenth handed Draconian his hand and they shock politely. Lebenth smiled at his cousin's enthusiasm.  
"Come on Drake, Aunt Narcissa is waiting-" before Lebenth could finish his thoughts Draconian spun around to see his mum smiling down at him. Her blond hair framing her pale face and her blue-grey eyes sparklingly intently as she took his shoulder.  
"An exciting match, Draconian," His mother stated kindly as she lead him and Lebenth out of the room. Draconian let his lips twitch into a grin, "You think so?" He asked as Narcissa nodded.  
"Yes my son and I am sure your tutor will love to hear of it as soon as you get into to class." Draconian pulled the hint from her sentence and with one last smile nodded and walked briskly down the hall with his cousin towards his tutor's room.  
Kynenir Valerie -Stone was one of the most famous pureblood tutors in the wizarding world, and therefore the most expensive to hire. He was a vampire and aged through more than 500 century's. He was a the third son of the Valerie cult master, before he was banished for studying magic, he had a adopted son, of age six, who occasionally came with him to the manor. Kynenir, or master Stone, had dark hair, which made his skin appear more pallid than a winter moon. His bloodshot eyes were black, because the iris of a human bitten by a vampire distorted. He was a strict but caring soul and needed little blood to stay sustained due to his age. When he did feast he feasted on muggles.  
Draconian and Lebenth calmly entered their tutors office which was laid out as a small classroom. In this class five times a week from eight thirty till twelve the boys were taught the theory of basic charms and transfiguration along with the history of pureblood families. Lebenth was obviously learning higher theory work however Draconian had a talent for history and worked at the same level as his cousin.  
The boys sat at their desk and quietly waited for master Stone, taking out their quills and parchment in the meantime. Draconian had recently been given a beautiful peacock quill form his cousin as he had broken Draconian's last set of Raven feathered quills.  
As the door in front of the cousins opened to reveal the professor Draco called in union to Lebenth's thoughts, "Good morning master Stone." The man smiled and placed his pile of books he had been levitating on the desk. All of the undead had naturally vivid mental magic so master Stone could hear Lebenth. "Good morning boys, how was your breakfast?" Lebenth smiled and thought, "Quite nice, we had croissants." Their professor smiled and replied, "Cela ne sonne bien. J'ai moi-même eu un petit déjeuner anglais complet en compagnie de vos pères. Nous parlions de votre dernier enseignement de la littérature à vous préparer pour les nombreux essais que vous écrirez à l'école." Lebenth and Draconian smiled, they had completed their lessons on the French language last term. Both boys were now fluent in all European Languages.  
"Why where you discussing are knew subjects, master Stone?" Asked Draconian, the vampire smiled at the young heir. "Well, as your tutor I take it as my duty to assist you and Lebenth in your academic studies Draco. And I believe you and Lebenth are ready to leave the subject of Charms theory and begin a harder subject."  
Both boys took difficulty in hiding their smiles. "Anyway, that will not be until next week for now let us carry on with your history and mine. Please get out your new books,"  
Draco hurried to remove his book from his desk that had a draw in the side to store his books and parchment. He was paced with a slight run back to his desk and placed the large book on top of his parchment. The cover was jet black and in silver scrawl the title appeared letter by letter: The Sacred Thirty-One. Draco, once the writing had fully appeared, took a moment to smirk at Lebenth. Lebenth smirked back then the boys opened the book to the first page. When their tutor watched both boys focus on the first page he began to read, "The Sacred Thirty-One written by Cantankerus Nott," He paused here to make sure the boys were listening. On seeing their fixated stares he continued, "With in this novel contains a dictionary of those, whom in my eyes, have the purest of blood. Purebloods. The finished result of this novel has presented itself as a dictionary of Thirty-One names that deserve recognition and praise because of their pure magical heritage. This means that through months of careful research I have discovered which families are worthy and which are not. There are no blood traitors, half-bloods, or Mudbloods recognized in my work. For it is they who shall be our downfall." Master Stone paused here; he turned to the boys, his face stern. "I trust that you boys will not judge your friends after this topic-" Lebenth laughed in a high pitched tone that made the room drop in temperature. "Are you suggesting we befriend the unworthy,Stone?" He thought in a deadly way, as master Stone sighed, "Obviously not. However I am suggesting that you and Draco depend on your associates by your own judge not by the biased words of a young wizard who wanted to create an imprint on his society." Lebenth bowed his head in shame and nodded as his tutor carried on. "The Thirty-One families comprised of: Abbott, Avery, Black, Boles, Burke, Carrow, Corrux, Crouch, Flint, Gaunt Greengrass, Griffith, Grim, Hindes, LeRoy, Lestrange, Longbottom, Malfoy, Nott, Ollivander, Potter, Prewett, Queens, Rosier, Rouge, Rowle, Selwyn, Slughorn, Stone, Travers, Weasley-" "WEASLEY?" The boys raced into uproar Lebenth head hurt with a swell of emotion and Draco's hair flared red. "You want us to befriend a Weasley?" Lebenth thought as he stood up, face burning with rage as he through his ink across the floor. "No, Lebenth. Please be seated-" Master Stone answered calmly as he vanished the ink with his wand. "But you said-" Began Draco as he too stood from his chair. "I said do not judge your friends. Have you ever met a Weasel?" The boys looked at him agape, "No sir," They answered. "Do you plan to befriend one?" Master Stone inquired. "No sir," was again the reply. "Then how did my previous statement apply to one?" Both boys looked with shame at their tutor before sitting down. "It did not apply to the Weasley's as I said. I am sorry for disrupting the lesson sir." Lebenth mumbled in his head as Draco nodded. Master Stone nodded and tapped the book with his wand. "Good, now please turn to page three," Lebenth and Draco turned the page.  
Master Stone smiled then began to read:

The Black family holds great power in the magical community. The Black family traces its purity to the Arthurian Era. The Black family began with the birth of three witches Morgan, Elaine and Morgause. These three witches were the daughters of the Lady Igraine, who was a half eleven, and her first husband, the Muggle Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall. The Lady Igraine was beautiful and full of unconditional light she was loved by all and when her husband died she married King Uther Pendragon, a Celtic Elven high king. To whom she bore a non-magical son, Arthur Pendragon. The Elven high king in shame hid the son with a family of low elves. Igraine fell into deep sorrow.  
Her three daughters outraged at their young brother named him _Scieb_ (Traitor of magic, that has lately been translated to squib) however their beloved mother told them that until three horrid sins had been committed by her son the witches were not to touch him.  
The young squib grew into a fine man and when his father died his mother returned him to his rightful crown. The boy of fourteen was given a half-elveish tutor, Merlin, and with the tutor he ruled wisely. In time the young king fell in love with a pretty Muggle girl, Guinevere. The girl was cursed by Morgan to bear no children for the king so her brother would have to choose one of his half sisters children to become his rightful heir.  
Many children were born to the sisters yet each possessed little power in comparison to theirs. The three sisters were distraught. Until their own mother spoke to them, "Morgan with divine hips shall berth a prince with night locks on his temple and blood trembling with magic, Mordred the Black. This son shall murder his father that his mother took under loves face."  
The prophecy sent Morgan, bearing the face of Queen Guinevere into her brothers chambers were she was given a child. However as Morgan lay still for nine lunes of a full moon, her sisters caused the Queen to fall into love a quaint Knight. On the ninth month Arthur caught the knight and his wife in her private chambers.  
Arthur stricken with pain, when he discovered the affair, asked his wife three times were their child was she denied the child and with Elevish sin he struke her, again he asked her she said he had not berthed a child, he struck her then asked a third time she denied his words and he struck her with sin a third time. Morgan came forth suddenly with her son that had been borne at dawn, for now the king had committed three sins and could be killed so she presented his unknown death into his arms. He held his son high and named him Mordred Prince of Britain. Then with the boy in his left arm and sword in his right he murdered his wife and knight.  
Mordred when in his childhood youth was a druid, an elven prince and powerful son with an innocent face, he connected to his mother and Merlin through his mind and spoke little to his father as he deemed himself unworthy. The Mordred the Black was told he would murder his father. However the boy was not a killer, he did not want blood on his hands.  
On his eighteenth birthday Morgan and Arthur went into battle together the boy protected his father from European Muggles. The Muggles lost and Arthur and Mordred were the last.  
Morgan however came to the battle as the last Muggle fell and she took power over her son and with his cursed body she murdered her brother. Yet Merlin who had followed her saw this and told the Knights of Arthur that Morgan had murdered her brother, not his son. Who became kind and passed the royal Black wizarding name through generations that will still come to pass-"  
"Is that it?" Asked a curious Draconian, Stone smiled. "Of course not Draconian, the story here is just a brief line of your heritage, the in depth novel is in your grandfathers study at Black manor, I believe." Draconian acknowledge this and nodded, Lebenth remained silent as always.  
Stone carried on, "The Blacks place a great importance on blood purity. The family motto, written on the family crest, is _Toujours Pur_, which means "Always Pure" in French that was the motto of Mordred.  
The Blacks are commonly described as "extremely handsome or beautiful". They are considered to be beautiful people, being tall, thin and having attractive features. The traditional look for most of the Black family is black hair and dark eyes with some exceptions, such as Alphard Black who had red hair or Orion Black I who had blond hair and blue eyes. (This lead to the court case involving the poor boys parentage. A significant rivalry between the Malfoys and Blacks that has newly been resolved.) They possess a certain aristocratic elegance that reflects upon their personality.  
The Black family is the wealthiest Wizarding family. There, known, two vaults in England Gringotts number 711 and number 3 are described as a treasury of gold. Their wealth is to be envied by all. The 600 family houses and 200 house elves (Public knowledge may be limited) is only an example of their power.  
Let us, audience of this chapter, understand that when the Black family is infuriated there is no mercy."  
When Stone looked up from reading he spotted the two struggling hands in the air. He smirked, "Yes Draco?" Stone asked as the young heir grinned in satisfaction. "Are the Black Family richer than us still, sir?" Stone smiled. "Yes they are Draco; it would take a thousand years to match the wealth of the Blacks. Lebenth?" Lebenth smiled as Draco pondered the answer and asked through his mind, "Is the Black family still powerful sir? I rarely hear of father talking about them?" Stone answered with a practiced tongue; he knew that the young boy was not meant to discover some truths. "Yes, the family's heir Regulus Black, your Aunts cousin, is currently working as a silent counselor for the English Wizgmont. He is trying to redeem the power of our pureblooded ways. As for the head of the family, Lord Orion, he recently suffered a great loss and has not made an appearance for many years however his wife Walburga-"He said this with a sneer in his voice, "-is currently residing in France with her cousin. Doing nothing on either matter."  
Lebenth saw the anger in his tours eyes and quickly changed the topic. "What about the Malfoy family sir?" He suggested with a smirk on his face. Both cousins rapidly read the chapter. Snorting at the text in some places and grinning at others.  
"The Malfoy family is a pureblooded wizarding family whose French ancestry is well known throughout the wizarding society. The Malfoy family although denied by most members come from a line of squibs that till this day is still unnamed. The Malfoy name was given to the family in the first generation and therefore the name of the squib line was lost. The name _Malfoy_ is derived from the French "mal foi," meaning "badly (or in this case, bad) faith" or "unfaithful". In law, "bad faith" refers to a case in which a malicious motive on the part of a party in a lawsuit undermines their case. This would be relevant to the general cruel natures displayed by some members of the house. In existentialism, "bad faith" is a philosophical concept in which people blame their own failures on external factors, thus denying responsibility for their actions. Also, this most likely refers to the Malfoys' famous tendency to switch their loyalties to avoid danger or punishment, rather than steadfastly supporting their presented views.  
Many historical achievements (Wizarding) have been noticed by society in compliment to the Malfoy family such as their short rule over France when the family posed as the House of Valois from 1328 to 1589. Another achievement of the Malfoy family was their strategist advice that assisted in many wizarding and Muggle battles including the naval battle: The Spanish Armada. This is a significant battle as the Malfoy family assisted the Black family's heir Elizabeth Tudor in this battle.  
The family crest pays homage to Salazar Slytherin, bearing the colors black, green and silver, as well as images of several serpentine creatures. The Latin words "Sanctimonia Vincet Semper" appears inscribed on a silver banner, meaning "Purity Will Always Conquer".  
The aristocratic features of the Malfoy family are traditional. Blond hair and steal blue eyes. It is unlikely to ever have a Malfoy heir without this description and therefore it has become a signature look that many wizards and witches find tremendously attractive.  
The Malfoy family is the third wealthiest Wizarding family. Their vault in England Gringotts number, number 12, is described as fountains of silver upon emeralds. Their wealth is to be envied by many. The 327 family houses and 50 house elves (Public knowledge may be limited) is only an example of their rising wealth.  
Let us, audience of this chapter, be warned that the Malfoy have a honored tradition: They are Slytherin through and through."  
They boys read the last sentence in their minds and together. No matter what neglect Draco suffered he was proud to be a Malfoy.

AAA

Gloom lay thick across the tired walls of Malfoy manor. A hungry wind bit the windows, they quivered. Looming above the oak doors was a window engraved with a pearly glow. Lilius Malfoys private study had little light. A cold ember sunk into ash in the fireplace and a single candle perched on the craved desk. Lilius sighed as he fixed his gaze onto a grandfather clock, which stood like a lonely man, in the corner. The time was quarter to eleven. Lilius impatiently diverted his cold stare towards the ring in his hand, a deep haunting blue stone stuck in between two twisted silver branches. Detailed silver leaves waved on an invisible wind around the stone. The Ravenclaw Lords ring had been passed through to his squib biological father, shortly before Lilius had murdered him. How would have guessed the great and intelligent Ravenclaw line producing a long generation of squibs.  
Lilius who, quite proudly, was the heir to two Hogwarts founders wore the rings, much to Lucius's envy.  
Lucius was Lilius's brother. Even though it was through adoption they were and always would be brothers.  
Tom Marvolo Riddle was Lilius's name before Lord Abraxas Malfoy had adopted him.  
Lilius only referred to himself as Tom to claim his vaults at Gringots and to pass on his heritage to his son.  
He had been told about his true parentage just before he started Hogwarts:

_The two heirs of the Malfoy house were sat at the bay window in their double chambers. Four of their close cousins circled them as they battled in an intense game of wizard's chess. The light illuminated their stern faces through the window pain. It was a cold day in December, and the boys were steadily becoming impatient as the wait for Christmas drew closer._  
_Lucius brushed his shoulder-length hair out of his eyes as he called, "Knight C5," with a trumpet smirk plastered across his cheeks. He was a strategist, even at the age of seven. He was the champion chess player among the six and not surprisingly the wittiest. It was, of course, a Malfoy trait._  
_Lilius was watching his queen become black rumble with shocking purple eyes. Different, from the usual Malfoy traditional look but the same proud emotion still lurked between them, even as a child. He turned to face his cousin Sirius Black._  
_Sirius was the heir of the Black family. Enough said. He was a prodigy of magic, at six he had mastered the first grade classes that they would teach at Hogwarts. He was now on grade three. His black hair was tied with a silver ribbon, his grey eyes were surveying the match, and his trademark grin was falling across his elfish face._

"_Lucius, if mistakes were magic you would be a muggle. I honestly cannot see a way to win this match Lil. Surrender now and do so proudly." Sirius said as he raised his palms and fell back into his chair. Lucius smirked again as Lilius sighed._

"_One day I will beat you brother, but until then I agree with Siri, good game." Lilius swooped across the room and took the seat next to his closest friend. Sirius grinned and moved closer to him._

_Lucius turned to face them all. Rodolphus and Rabastan, the LeStrange twins, were sat opposite him. The twins were identical; with brown curls and signature green eyes. They were talking, in Spanish, about Hogwarts. Ever since their older cousin Neil had been sorted into Slytherin, School had suddenly become a much loved topic between the children._

_The last of the group was Morgan Flint he was good friends with all of the children however if you asked the adults the favoured pairs were: Lilius and Sirius, Lucius and Rodolphus and Rabastan and Morgan._

_It was nearing lunch when the fire place sounded in the hallway and the voice of Lord Abraxas Malfoy boomed a welcome. Sirius looked down at his watch. "I doubt it is any of our fathers as they are also invited for dinner." The others nodded in agreement as Abraxas entered the room. A heavily clocked stranger stood in silence behind him._

"_Lucius, son, could you please escort your guests down stairs? I need a word with your brother alone." Lucius nodded, knowing not to disagree with his father, he led the others, except Sirius, out. Abraxas motioned for Sirius to leave but he lazily shock his head. "Sirius can stay, father, he can be trusted with my life let alone a family secret." Lilius said with a short wink. His father sighed, "Well if you're sure son." He said in a voice almost regretful. He then patted his son on the shoulders sent a glare towards the Black heir and left. Leaving the stranger in the room. A tense silence caused Sirius to stand and draw his wand. He growled at the man, low and dog like, before Lilius also stood up. They turned on the man whose face was covered. Slowly Sirius said, "By order of the House of Black I demand you sit on the chair-" He gestured to a old wooden one he transfigured from a pillow on the floor, "-Take off your clock, apologise for your poor lack of an introduction and show us your wand." Sirius wasn't playing. He felt threatened by the very stance of the man who was now walking towards the chair._

_Carefully the man did what he had been told. When the man removed his hood Sirius became wide-eyed. Nicholas Flamel sat in Lilius's chambers his face white and frowning._

"_Do not rely on your name boy. I doubt very many care of a Black haired boy with wealthy robes especially when his arrogance seems to be his only shield." Sirius nodded and stood back into a bow, Lilius did the same. Both boys were slightly annoyed, Sirius had shown his skill of magic very professionally and non-threatenly through his transfiguration. He had warned without actually warning._

_But both boys were purebloods and had manors. They apologised, offered Nicholas drinks and then after the usually protocol sat down opposite the half-blood._

_With a sigh Lilius was first to talk as the silence was awkward. Usually their guest would have had tea and the slurping of a drink would have made the tenseness vanish but the eccentric man had declined any drinks saying he only drank his own wine and ate his own food._

_Nicholas starred at the boys with a soft expression that was slightly off. His white eyes rimmed with a red line looked almost painful._

"_Are you blind?" Asked Sirius with little concern of the mans health at all. The mans gaze shifted towards Sirius's mouth. "I am, Master Black." Was the reply. Lilius gaped at the man, "But you created the elixir of life. How can you be blind?"_

_Nicholas smiled softly, the kid was smart. "Well Master Malfoy, to have an elixir of life the elixir must be given a form of life to generate from. A powerful source, it seems I did not give it a powerful enough source and now it has began to rot my senses. My taste first, then my smell, and now my sight." Both boys shuddered at the coldness in the mans voice._

"_The matter of which brings upon us why I am here. I have denied you, Lilius, your sense of belonging." Both boys shuddered again before asking, "Pardon?"_

"_Let me explain, I once knew a man named Roel Salazar Slytherin-" "-The grandson of-" "-Do not interrupt me Black!" Sirius fell silent and Lilius looked back at the man suddenly extremely interested in his words. "As i said, I once knew Roel. He and I were as brothers before he died and I lived on with my elixir. As both of you probably know after a few more centuries the last of the Slytherin line was murdered and thoughts that lived changed their names to Gaunt. I knew of them. Heard lies and truths. Heard the family was brutal and blood thirsty. But also heard of a light. Merope Gaunt, the daughter. She-"_

"_Fell in love with a muggle and had a bastard at the age of fifty because her first child died. She oblivated her muggle husband endued with love potions had a second child in the year of my birth and both the child and Merope disappeared. We know, my father gives me that lecture almost every day, love a muggle means love a life as one."_

_Lilius grinned and Sirius as he once again interrupted, and laughed at his impression of his father. Nicholas frowned. "Be silent boy." He whispered as he then said. "I was chosen to protect the line by Roel as his brother that is why we created the elixir. And to make sure the same family who murdered the last of the Slytherin line didn't murder the only heir I took him from Merope and hid him with a pureblood family who gave him a knew and caring home." Sirius snorted, "That's some storey." He said choosing not to believe what his mind was yelling at him. But hen again why else would the man be telling Lil._

"_That's right, Black. The bastard child as you so valiantly named is sitting at your side."_

_"I don't believe you," said Lilius, suddenly. His eyes blazed as he stood up. "Tell the truth!" He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. Sirius stood up and moved towards the corner of the room. The voice his best friend used was a command, more deadly than his. He was glaring at Nicholas, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Lilius stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything scared._

_"Who are you?"_

_"I have told you. My name is Nicholas, my child." Nicholas paused when Lilius leapt from the bed and backed away from Nicholas, looking heartbroken._

"_No, I remember you? You're the man from the ball; you told father how much you wanted to take me away. Well I don't want to go! I refuse; my brother is here I won't leave him. "Sirius growled in agreement as he protectively stood in front of Lil.._

_Nicholas was impressed; Lilius had only been a small boy of three when that conversation had occurred._

_"I am not here to take you away, Lilius; I'm here to explain some family complications. And your inheritance." said Nicholas patiently. "As I have explained, I met your mother before you were born and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about her."_

_Lilius snorted, "My mothers in the kitchen downstairs if I want to know about her, I can go down myself and ask what ever I please." Nicholas gave the boy a saddened glance that unfortunately Lilius caught._

"_What?" He questioned._

"_I want to tell you about your biological mother and father, but if you don't want to listen nobody will force you —"_

_"I'd like to see them try," sneered Lilius, who had not yet understood the information inside Nicholas's statement. Unfortunately Sirius had and was now holding a rather desperate expression on his face. Nicholas reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a photograph he managed to get from the Riddle house hold, and another he took of Merope just before she died. He handed them to Lilius who starred at the blankly. Nicholas didn't expect him to remember._

_"Merope Gaunt and Thomas Riddle. A pure blood witch and a squib. Heirs of Ravenclaw and Slytherin."_

"_Pathetic squib. "Both boys said in turn._

_Nicholas went on, as though he had not heard Lilius's last words, "Your father and your mother —"_

"_Are down stairs!"_

_"Your mother and father are the people in those photographs, whether you believe me or not nothing will ever change that." Sirius started to shake._

_There was silence. Lilius had frozen, his face expressionless, but his eyes were flickering back and forth between each of Nicholas's, as though trying to catch one of them lying._

_"My mother and father?" he repeated in a whisper._

_"That's right," said Nicholas._

_"But...but does that mean Lucius isn't my brother, did father lie?" Lilius looked heartbroken, and Nicholas addressed him._

_"Lucius is still your brother for as long as you want him to be, your blood adopted made that happen and Lucius loves you. Your father is my very good friend and took you in when I couldn't? I also can guess as young Black has remained in the room after me explaining that you are not a pureblood, he does not care either." Sirius nodded in agreement, "You can't get rid of me, Lil." The boys laughed._

"_Where is my mother," breathed Lilius. A flush of anger was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered._

"_She's dead, and your father is living-"_

"_I DIDN'T ASK ABOUT THE SQUIB!" Lilius bellowed. His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed again, staring at his hands, his head bowed as though in prayer._

_"I knew I was different," he whispered to his own quivering fingers. "Tell me about her... I don't believe you! But tell me anyway." Nicholas smiled._

"_I honestly don't know much about them, but I know your true name is Tom and your mother looked like your sister does."_

"_I have a sister?"_

"_Yes" said Nicholas, who was no longer smiling, but watching Lilius intently. "My adopted daughter Maria."_

_Lilius lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild happiness upon it._

"_She wants to meet you Tom," Nicholas said._

_Lilius and Sirius gave an irritable twitch, as though trying to displace an irksome fly._

"_My name is Lilius," He stated coldly._

_"You dislike the name 'Tom'?"_

_"There are a lot of Toms," muttered Lilius as Sirius nodded, "Muggles name." He stated. Then, as though Lilius could not suppress the question, as though it burst from him in spite of himself, he asked, "Can she speak to snakes. Lucius can't, father says it's my gift— they find me, they whisper to me."_

_Nicolas could tell that he had withheld mention of this strangest power until that moment, determined to impress. "Parselmagic as you know is descended from Lord Slytherin" said Nicolas, after a moment's hesitation, "but no, she cannot speak Parseltounge."_

_His tone was casual but his eyes moved curiously over Lilius's face. Roel had told him many years ago that only his true heirs could speak to snakes. They stood for a moment, man and boy, staring at each other._

Lilius remembered it to well, fifteen years had passed from that day, and he was now twenty two.

There was a quite knock. Lilius smiled, ten to eleven; his son was a perfectionist at arriving precisely when he was meant to.

"Father?" The innocent voice of a child said. Lilius chuckled breathlessly, "Son?" He teased.

"May I enter?" The heavy oak door began to open.

"You may," Lilius replied to his son. He heard the light footsteps cross the room.

As he saw his son walk across the room, he realized he had an almost perfect reality.


End file.
